


blu-eyd

by angelica_barnes



Category: One Direction (Band), Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Insanity, Love, Multi, Twisted, very explicitly NOT moving on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 22:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14435628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelica_barnes/pseuds/angelica_barnes
Summary: louis dies. harry deals. harry and taylor fall in love along the way and both of them lose their minds.





	blu-eyd

**Author's Note:**

> all misspellings are intentional.

**1.**

 

he meets her at the funeral, that’s the most fucked-up thing about it. and at first all he can think is that her eyes are blu, bright twinkling cyan blu, just like his blu-eyd boy, and that’s probably what sets him off, anyway.

and he hasn’t cried a tear up until that point. but she holds him and she cries with him and by the end of the night, she’s sleeping naked in his bed and he feels like a sick whore.

she assures him he isn’t, and that’s when his heart first clenches.

 

**2.**

 

her hair is blonde and stringy, her eyes soft and unquestioning, and her posture is proud but she has every reason to be; she’s never been beaten down to ash and then sparked into a makeshift flame that he’s been trying to put out with his own tears. she takes his face in her hands when she finds him, and he cries too hard and sobs too loud and blacks out after slamming his head back into the table.

he wakes up in his bed, with a steaming cup of tea being held up to his lips; she hardly takes care of him, only just enough so his pulse is there, but he lives.

he wishes he wouldn’t.

 

**3.**

 

she prays for him each and every morning, but never leaves for church on sundays, so he asks who she’s praying to.

she says it’s to his lover, the blu-eyd boy, because surely he’s a part of the ocean now? and the water listens, she tells him.

he doesn’t cry this time, only tears up a bit, and he stares. she buys him stars and moons and suns to hang around his room, and he tries to believe that they mean something

they don’t, but she does, and oh god, he’s actually falling in love with her, isn’t he?

 

**4.**

 

he gives her a butterfly, a blu one. its wings have brown and orange eyes painted on them, and she holds it so delicately on her index finger, and she smiles at him and he thinks she’s beautiful, then curses himself for it. because she’s so whole and pure and wishful whereas he’s a broken and cynical old ass, but she smiles at him like he’s the world, and then it strikes him how young she is.

one morning, she’s asleep beside him fully clothed, and he realizes that he hasn’t used her in five months, that he hasn’t wanted to for three.

he recognizes the slope of her waist, the curve of her hips beneath his fingertips, and the shine of her smile.

he could go blind looking at her. into those blu blu eyes, the ones that match his dead flowerboy’s.

 

**5.**

 

it takes six days for her to find the letter. the confessions and the secrets, and he’s too tired to try and take it from her, so instead he’s forced to watch her scream and cry and break, and he just accepts that he’s helpless to do something.

her hands are trembling when he takes them in his own, and he leads her to the window. she asks him to open it in a timid voice, and he does. her butterfly escapes her tangled braid and soars out into the open air.

she tries to go after it with the full knowledge that she can’t catch it.

he took away her wholeness, he realizes, and kisses her for the first time on a hot july day, surrounded by the corpses of dead moths hidden in the folds of wrinkled book pages.

 

**6.**

 

her eyes are studying him as he reads. he doesn’t look up at her, because he’s too afraid that she’ll see whatever it is she’s searching for. but she’s looking for him, truthfully, and he’s really in love with who she is, and so he hardly notices when she intertwines their fingers between them.

outside, it’s cold, but she still walks down to the graveyard with him. his blu-eyd boy is still there, and she takes his hand as the first tear falls.

he goes rigid.

then he crumples, and she’s right there to catch him, as always. they sit there until the sun starts to set and the orange in the sky turns to red.

 

**7.**

 

she doesn’t seem to care for the dark and musty indoors. he keeps the lights off, with only burning candles to make it dim, and the place is old and falling apart. its paint is peeling and its portraits crooked, and the floorboards creak. but she’s older, he finds, because she talks to the walls, and one day she tries to walk through one.

she knocks herself out when she slams into the wood, and he just sighs and pushes himself up and walks over to her. he would wake her up, but she looks so peaceful, so instead he lies down beside her and wraps a single arm around her midsection and laces his fingers through hers.

from then on they sleep on the floor, and she writes poetry on the walls in dripping black ink to reply to the voices in her head.

 

**8.**

 

people call them strange, he learns. it’s kind of true, if he really thinks about it, but he doesn’t much. there’s too much riding on her sweet innocence in his life, to keep him from that shining light he sees whenever he closes his eyes, and so he doesn’t breathe a word of it to her and she smiles and writes and sleeps.

he loves her.

he hates himself.

he promised his blu-eyd boy he wouldn’t, that he wouldn’t fall in love again, but here he is… too deep, too far, too true. he covers his ears to try and block out the noises, the hammering of nails as she fixes the paintings on the walls, and at night when she’s asleep he digs his nails into the pigment and scrapes down.

she doesn’t say a word about the claw marks on lady elizabeth’s face. she also doesn’t say a word to him.

 

**9.**

 

he sometimes thinks he can’t see because of her. maybe she’s a crow, come to peck out his eyes, because if she weren’t then he wouldn’t dream of only her and he wouldn’t want only her and he wouldn’t see only her because her eyes are blu and he should only love his eyes are blu.

she slams the door one morning and wakes him. he’s in his armchair, curled in on himself and around a picture of his blu-eyd boy, and she screeches like a raven but he can’t block out the noise this time.

so he silences her with his mouth on hers and this time she cries, over the lost souls raging inside her and his broken promises.

he said he loved her.

she says he was lying.

only at the time, he strains.

 

**10.**

 

she packs her bags and wears her finest hat when it’s finally done. his green eyes are still wide open, watching her, and she knows this because she can feel them on her back. she leaves him in the old house and walks down to the meadow that’s right by them, where there’s a wooden stake pitted in the ground for future generations will say god knows what.

she never kissed him goodbye because she wouldn’t say it. his blu-eyd boy is gone, and so she plans to be to, because maybe then he’ll finally choose the blu-eyd girl. she picks her green-eyd boy and pricks her finger on the thorn of a wilted rose she wears in her hair.

deep in its petals lies a dead blu butterfly with brown and orange eyes painted on its wings.

 

**1.**

 

she meets him at her distant cousin’s funeral, and decides she pities him.

because that’s all she could ever call the stirring in her chest, or else they’d scream,

burn the witch.

 


End file.
